Out of Place
by Mila of the Grain
Summary: Just months after returning from Namorn, the Circle end up in a strange world with metal man-birds, winged horses, and a real dragon that makes Chime look like a toy.  Why were they pulled into Tortall, and how do they get back home?
1. Prologue: The Boy on the Riverbank

**Out of Place**

PROLOGUE_  
The Boy on the Riverbank_

* * *

Silan giggled at the little wave that lapped at the shore of the riverbank, washing over the tips of his toes before rolling away. Frisking at the river's edge was one of the small pleasures of being a fisher lad who helped pluck fish from nets. Some day, when he was older and had much stronger arms, he hoped to be out on the boats like his father. It was risky work, but he reckoned being on a boat all day would make up for the risk. Clean air in your lungs, fish on your hook, and a nice full belly at the end of every day- that was Silan's dream.

But today, like all of the little fisher lads who waited on the shore, Silan wondered why the boats weren't coming in. It wasn't safe to be on the water when a storm was coming, and surely the boatmen could see the large cloud gathering in the very centre of the wide stretch of river. It was a peculiar cloud to be sure, as Silan had never seen one that was all yellow and pink like that and sat so low to the surface. Then again, Silan was only in his eighth year so he figured this was one of those _rare_ things that you only saw a few times your whole life.

It was one of the older boys who noticed the absolute _unnaturalness_ of the cloud first. Being a different colour and low down was almost excusable, but it grew so rapidly that all of the children started to gasp and point. Soon a boat arrived in, with the fisherman inside yelling, waving their arms, and jabbering so quickly that Silan could scarcely hear what they were saying. "Boiling… fish all dead… sunk," were some of the snatches he managed to pick up.

The state of their vessel helped to piece things together- some of the hull looked decrepit and worn, like it had rotted almost clean through. Finally, once all of the fishermen had their feet planted firmly on the ground, one of them spoke up clearly. "That fog appeared and we heard some of the crews screamin' out. We went to help, but the boats was already sunk by the time we'd set the sail. Then the fog was gettin' bigger and coming towards us and we could see everything! The water under it was bubblin' away like a hot pot and the fish was all rising up to the surface, cooked like," the broad-shouldered fisherman's eyes scanned the water, watching the low cloud he thought was too thick to be fog, spreading out towards the shore, "all you boys scatter quick and find the guards, mages, _anyone who will listen_."

Some of the boys weren't in the habit of following orders, but the panic in the man's eyes and tone of his voice sent them running to do just as he said. Silan stayed where he was, having shorter legs than the rest of them, and wanting to see if any other boats would turn in. His Papa's boat was out there, and surely it hadn't been one of the ones that were gobbled up by the water.

He waited and waited but only two more boats came in, neither of them his Papa's, and the cloud was getting closer. When it was close enough to see the water bubbling away, dead fish floating, and steam rising up from the surface, Silan _ran_. Every few steps he turned and looked over his shoulder and so he was able to see the cloud reach the shore and creep over the dry land, turning any green things black and crispy like they'd been through a fire. It seemed to be getting faster, or perhaps Silan was getting slower.

People in the streets had noticed too and the small boy could hear their screams over the sound of his own panting. He looked over his shoulder again to see that the cloud was still growing- it had probably reached Fig Street by now- and in his distraction he fell, his knees and hands crashing down on the cobblestones. Each time he tried to get up he was jostled back down by a frenzied runner, until he was so dizzied and scared that all he could do was curl into a ball and pray.

The prayers didn't help when tendrils of fog crept over Silan, but they gave him comfort as his chest seized up and he passed on to the world of the dead.

* * *

_A/N: I do hope you enjoyed the prologue and will stick around for the upcoming first chapter, which will feature some familiar faces from Emelan. The fog is a matter of some importance and will be attended to throughout the story._


	2. Chapter One:  The Departure

**Out of Place**

CHAPTER ONE _  
The Departure_

* * *

In Summersea, the capital of Emelan, Trisana Chandler turned her face to the winds. They were rushing around her, as though they didn't know that _wind_ was not supposed to be scared or jittery. Only her copper-red hair was left unmoved as the winds swept around her in circles, twisting and weaving around each other while she tried to grab at the snatches each of them contained. Screams and voices were sounding in her ears and they were not very helpful, but the _sights_ were. She watched the life sucked from a small boy from countries away, and tried her best to keep calm.

"It's as the messengers and Niko's vision said," she announced to the other people in the room. They had unsuccessfully been trying to scry using crystal and mirrors when the doors had burst open and the strong breezes had raced to Tris uninvited. "It appeared over Lairan's Great Lake, along the border of Irod and Namorn. It devours everything in its path, leaving nothing alive. I have never seen, or read of, anything like it. The buildings it passes over crumble like ruins, the plants shrivel and die like they've been burnt." She swallowed and took a breath through her long, pointed nose, "it kills animals and people and leaves them rotten, like they've been dead for a week or more in the heat of summer."

The redhead could feel her foster siblings poking in her mind, shifting through the images and sounds the winds had brought her. She willingly shared the sights, transferring everything to them in a moment, then set about placing the same images in the large scrying mirror so the other occupants of the room could look. The instruments in the Duke's Citadel weren't as large as those in Winding Circle, but those that needed to managed to make room around the mirror.

Image after image appeared on the shimmering glass surface, and their sights made the Duke and mages go pale. "Has anyone seen such a thing?" Duke Vedris asked gravely. He was a wise man, the brilliant ruler of Emelan, but not as learned in the way of magic as his companions. To his dismay, each head in the room shook. "Then how are we to proceed?" he asked in his most reasonable tone.

The gathering of some of Emelan's most influential mages was no coincidence. On every Watersday Tris, Briar, Daja, and Sandry, would gather for a family dinner. Some factors such as the location, what was served, and who else was invited, would vary. However, in the weeks since their return from Namorn, the Watersday dinners had become a ritual that as set in stone. Tonight they had dined at Sandry's home in her Uncle's Citadel, and had jovially passed the night in comfort with Niko, Dedicate Lark, Evvy, and Duke Vedris, until a foretelling of destruction had overwhelmed Niko and an urgent message had come from Winding Circle.

"Moonstream will undoubtedly have Dedicates scrying for to gauge how far it has spread," Niko replied. His long hair seemed to have become more grey than black in just an hour, although perhaps it was the creases at the corners of his eyes that made him look aged. "Briar, if you could get Rosethorn or Crane so we can find out the progress there," he nodded at the bronze-skinned young man, then turned back to the Duke, "once we discover where it has spread to, and how rapidly, we will be in a better position to advise you."

Briar moved to the balcony and walked through the doors that the winds had blown open just minutes before. He stretched a hand out to grasp a vine of ivy and began to send urgent words through the plants between the Citadel and Winding Circle. The green things were eager to help, as the whisper of _wrongness_ had swept from the North to many of them, and soon he was settled into a conversation with both of his old teachers.

"In just five hours it has engulfed everything within seventy miles of the lake. The magical barrier around Namorn was raised and seemed to slow it, but less than ten minutes ago Winding Circle saw the barrier break, and a the scrying link has gone hush," Briar relayed quickly. Almost all of the people in the room made the gods circle on their chest, while Daja offered up a quick prayer to Trader Koma. "They're calculating, but the initial estimate is that the wasteland fog will reach here in three days at the least, six at the most," he added.

"We saw from Tris's winds that people can outrun it, only just, but on horseback they can succeed and we'll have refugees fleeing South. There will be riots and mobs,"Sandry pointed out. As a young noble woman, she was normally poised and composed, however a hint of alarm had now edged its way into her eyes. "The reactions will be a dozen times worse than any epidemic. Evacuation strategies need to be put into place _now_ so we can retain a scrap of order and to ensure a better chance of survival when we're overrun with refugees," the girl said. She spoke thoughtfully, but with passion, and her words made sense. Regardless of how the destroyer fog was approached, measures needed to be taken to make sure the most southern points of their country were able to house masses of people.

"Yes, my dear," Duke Vedris agreed, "but what of this fog? What action can be taken against it?" His words had been punctuated by the discontented crooning of a tiny dragon. The Duke reached a hand out to the creature who was perched on his wine goblet, and stroked under her neck until the crooning ceased. She, like everyone else in the room, obviously knew that nothing good would come from the strange fog.

The room was silent for a few moments as individuals kept to their own thoughts. Eventually, it was Tris who broke the spell, "it needs to be investigated first." Her voice was soft and very scared. "Crystals and mirrors have proven to be useless in looking beyond the… whatever it is, but my winds have passed through it and found me. If I ride closer to it I can see more images," she explained, trying to keep her voice from wavering.

"You want to ride _closer_ to the thing?" Evvy remarked incredulously, "you're mad. You'll be swallowed up by it and spat out the other side all mouldy and rotten like everyone else." Until that point, they had largely forgotten that the younger girl was also in the room. She resisted the urge to clamp a hand over her mouth in apology. "It's true," she grumbled, standing her ground.

Tris sighed. She was getting to know Evvy and sometimes she thought the other girl's rashness was refreshing, but right now it was _not_ appreciated. "It's not a matter of want, it's a matter of need. Regular scrying is failing and there's no time to be guessing about how to fix it. The sooner more details are known about this thing, the better. It can buy us more time to prepare," the weather witch reasoned. She looked to Evvy and peered at the younger girl through gold-rimmed spectacles, "I'm not in the habit of throwing myself into danger _just because_."

"Niko?" Duke Vedris asked.

The wizened mage studied the flickering wind images in the scrying mirror, taking note of every detail he could see. His students had been given their medallions in their early teenage years, they had earned them, and proven themselves worthy of their status many times over. Though he itched to keep Tris safe, he knew she was right.

"We need to know all that we can about the fog, as soon as we can. Hopefully Winding Circle's regular scrying instruments can breach the heart of the anomaly before Tris and I can get too close," Niko replied soundly.

"If you're going, _I'm _going," Briar added immediately.

"And me," Daja and Sandry both chorused at the same time.

"Someone has to remain behind to mind-speak," Tris pointed out, knowing already that she would be parting on bad terms with a certain noble.

Sandry's cornflower blue eyes glittered dangerously, _don't you dare_, she thought to her siblings.

_The plants might have things to say to me_, Briar replied, twiddling his fingers. He didn't relish the idea of going into danger, with memories of his time fighting against the Emperor's men far too vivid and fresh. Fighting a completely unknown magical enemy that stripped life from all it crossed wasn't the most appealing thought. However, he could be useful in uncovering details about this thing, _very_ useful, and that couldn't be denied.

Daja's hand curled and the tips of her fingers brushed against her living-metal skin reassuringly as she met Sandry's gaze. _I can't hope to be as much of an asset in Summersea as you'd be,_ the Trader thought reasonably.

_No_, Sandry snapped back, _we're that much more powerful when it's all four of us together, and no one can expect me to just sit around here idle all day until you return! We can communicate back to Winding Circle with sister mirrors, which will be far more effective anyway, considering the distance involved._ She squared her shoulders and planted her hands on her hips. _I can't _believe_ you would try to exclude me like that_, she thought indignantly. "We're _all_ going," she informed the others aloud.

"If that is your choice," the Duke replied steadily. He inclined his head towards his niece, who was such a ferocious creature when provoked. "Although I can't deny that you would be of great use to me here," he said.

Sandry blushed, "I know, Uncle. But the nature of our magics is that we are stronger together. We can't waltz so close to danger without the _full_ power of the circle." She moved closer to him and patted his arm gently. She leaned in to kiss his cheek , "I know the plan is _not_ to get so close to the fog, but we need to take all precaution, which means being our most powerful."

"You don't need to explain," Duke Vedris replied, "you have all proven yourselves extremely capable. However, I want no foolishness or improvisation until you _know_ what you are dealing with." He looked at each of the mages in turn, studying them with imperious brown eyes. "And now, as we know time is of the essence, I believe you must plan your trip quickly." He moved away from Sandry to open the door and signal for the runners.

. . . .

"You could make a nice living doing this in His Grace's harbour, Coppercurls," Briar remarked cheerfully. He watched Tris adjust the wind in the felucca's sails, "if you stuck to it there'd be no need for you to skip off to Lightsbridge next month." She responded to his suggestion with a not-so-nice gesture that Briar could hardly see in the dark.

He had initiated such nagging just days after their return from Namorn, having decided that he wasn't quite ready to have her disappear to Karang. The country didn't even share a boarder with Emelan, and Briar was weary of travel. He wanted to stick down some roots for a while, but he couldn't do that unless all of his sisters were close. If Tris actually followed through with her fool plan to leave, Briar would need to split his time between Summersea and the university in Karang. He would just _have_ to, and what an inconvenience it would be!

"Go to sleep, Briar," she told him curtly.

His eyebrows shot up, "and leave you all alone while you witch wind for the sails? What kind of brother would that make me?" He twisted to look at Daja, Sandry, Evvy, and Niko, who were all huddled in bed rolls, fast asleep. Even the captain of the _Blue Rook_ had gone to bed, muttering about things that were unnatural and dangerous, like sailing swiftly down the Uona River in the dead of night.

Tris, happy with her winds for now, ran her fingers down one of her lightning braids until she had a spark between her fingers. "A well rested one," she replied, feeding magic into the spark to make it bright enough to see Briar's face, "considerate too, since it means I wouldn't have you trying to convince me away from Lightsbridge while I'm trying to scry _and_ witch the sails _and_ fiddle with the river." With that, she turned away from him and settled down to properly receive the breezes that might give her glimpses of the wasteland fog.

Only once Tris was completely immersed in her scrying did Briar go to her and settle a shawl over her shoulders. The girl was so vexing, she had no care that she was just as likely to fall down with a case of the sniffles like everyone else. From her place around the girl's neck, Chime whistled the thanks that Tris neglected to give. Satisfied, Briar settled down with his back to the mast so he could watch over his sister, and the rest of the ship, as they continued to sail north.

. . . .

The sleepers started to stir as the sky gradually got lighter. Briar pushed a cup of wake-me-up tea into Niko's hands before allowing the older man relieve him of Tris-watching duties. After finishing the tea, Niko settled a hand on Tris's shoulder, following it up with a small nudge of magic. The girl had once been so mistrustful that she wouldn't have allowed their magics to join, but that had been many years before.

_Of course_, she responded to the request, and let their magics meet and merge until the useful things she had seen were transferred to him. There wasn't much that was unique- mostly they were images of the same death and destruction her winds had brought to her at the Citadel, though now there were also clusters of people escaping to the south. _We're lucky we didn't take the road_, Tris told him through their link, _we would have had to intimidate our way through_.

Niko nodded and gave her shoulder a soft squeeze before letting his hand drop. "Sandry is waking the Captain. Once he-"

"We can't _possibly_ be this far up the river," the Captain's brisk voice barked the words out even as colour drained from his skin. He stared dumbfounded at the familiar surroundings, "we can't… I've been asleep for no more than five hours. We can't be here, almost in Gansar! We can't!" He rubbed his eyes disbelievingly, gasping at the sight of northern trees.

"Red there has been making us go fast, Cap'n," one of the sailors explained, giving his superior a firm pat on the back. "I for one have only ever gone so swift at sea, with the best of winds."

"And now she needs to sleep for a while," Niko announced in a light voice, "but she's had a good speak with the winds and currents, haven't you Tris? So they should be quite co-operative until she wakes." The whole crew had been told about the magic that would be worked, even before a price for the voyage had been discussed and Niko had no time to be pandering to the shock an old man.

Tris tried to pretend that the Captain's strange looks didn't affect her, but a blush crept into her cheeks unbidden. "Just for an hour or so, and you can wake me if I'm needed," she told Niko, drawing a shawl tighter around her. When had she got that shawl? I must have done it while I was working, she decided as she wiggled into the still-warm bedroll that Daja had used. Tris spared a thought for her friends, both on the ship and those like Lark who remained in Summersea, before sleep overcame her.

. . . .

_What is it?_ Both Briar and Tris jolted out of sleep as feelings of panic suddenly sprouted from Sandry and Daja. Sandry was plucking a mirror from Niko's hands and wrapping it safely in its shroud of silk. Her hands shook slightly as Daja watched on, gripping her Trader staff.

_Th__e fog has__ reached Karang- Lightsbridge. _Daja's steady voice spoke in their minds, _they held it back for a while, but the western side just fell. _She gravely bowed her head and appealed to Trader Koma and Bookkeeper Oti that the dead might have peace in the afterlife. Lightsbridge was Winding Circle's rival, and its fall meant the temple's defences might be just as useless.

"Then we need to give Winding Circle more time to prepare," Tris said aloud, her voice husky from sleep. She pushed herself up from the ground and righted her clothes once she was standing. "Evvy and Briar, can you watch out for obstacles below? If I don't have to concentrate on that so much I can make us go even faster," she explained.

Soon each of the mages had a purpose. Briar and Evvy worked together to identify hazards under the water, while Daja coaxed the few other vessels they came across out of the way. Sandry, for her part, strengthened the sails and ropes and made it her job to confer with the Captain in a soft, gentle tone. In that manner the mages passed into Lairan, and made it to the country's Illari Basin just before suset.

. . . .

Towards the end of the journey to the fog they talked about their plan so much that it made Daja's head hurt. She hadn't spent much time with Briar's student in the past few months, but now she knew the girl enough to be sure that Briar had managed to find someone who was just as stubborn as the rest of their family.

The two of them, Evvy and Briar, argued about Evvy's involvement for far too long. Only Niko's firm voice halted the argument. "We might need what the rocks can tell her, Briar," the great mage said, pointing out the reason Evvy had come in the first place.

Things went quickly after that. They disembarked at the northern tip of the basin, leaving the _Blue Rook_ and its crew to wait. "Be ready for a quick exit," Sandry reminded the sailors before stepping off the small jetty. She spun a thorough ward around the mages with her magic, and once she was satisfied with the circle of protection, gestured for Daja to add her own. Soon all of the mages held hands and settled into a familiar breathing pattern. Meditation would make it easier for all of them to reach across the distance to the fog.

In moments Briar raced through the ground, twisting and tumbling through roots and feeling the anxiety of every green thing his magic touched. _Something like winter is coming and it will feast on us_, they tried to tell him, _go back_. He ignored the plants and pressed on. In less than a minute his magical self had reached the fog thing and the land under it, but he could feel no green things living there. Even the black skeletal remains of flora felt like they had never been alive, had never been touched by Mila or the Green Man. Briar had never come across anything like it.

The stones chattered to Evvy, vibrating of their own accord because something was coming and it was going to _change_ them. Usually some stones liked to be changed while others did not, but never before had she heard such a unanimous clamour. _We feel tired_ the moaning stones told her, _we are going to turn to dust. _As she spread her power out even farther, Evvy discovered that indeed some stones already had. She delved deeper into the fog to find stones that had already met with it.

Sandry let her magical self settle over everything like a net. She scraped clues towards her like she carded wool, with a pliant wrist and an unbendable will. The buildings looked impossibly aged, like ruins she had once seen with her parents. She continued on until she found what it was that she sought. The young woman was no healer, but she had attended anatomy lessons just as other Winding Circle students did. She threaded her way through the network of nerves and blood vessels within the fallen corpses. _Breathing went first_, she thought, _and the hearts exploded._

_Before the decay set in_, Daja added distastefully. She crawled over every scrap of metal she could find, inspecting it, and had found herself sliding over putrefying flesh. _Most of the metal here _looks_ like it's fine, but every bit of it feels weak, like it was overheated in the forging. The longer it's been exposed to the fog, the more volatile the metal is. _Jewellery, belt buckles, knives, hinges and nails, the weakness didn't discriminate.

Tris let the others inspect things on and in the ground. Her magic took her elsewhere, firstly diving and skimming through fresh water that now felt like stagnant hot springs. _The water has turned acidic and everything in it is dead_, she declared, and vaulted up into the multi-coloured fog. It was unlike any fog she had ever seen or summoned, pressing around her and violently squeezing like a fist. Colours shifted around her, different pastel hues of pink, yellow, purple, orange- the whirling colours and squeezing feeling were making her dizzy. _I don't understand, it doesn't feel natural, but I can't feel any magic in it,_ she thought.

_There's sulphur and... I can't name the rest_, Niko replied next to her. Disliking the sensation of being compressed, he launched himself out of the fog and looked at it from above. _Try blowing it apart from inside, _he suggested as he layered different spells on the fog to make its nature appear. None of the symbols worked, but he knew the exact moment that Tris made her attempt. He could see a space in the fog shift for just a moment, but it was quickly covered again and the feeling of Tris muffled and grew weak.

Sandry felt it too and yanked _hard _on the connection to her sister. The girl didn't come out with the first tug, or the second, but for the third both Daja and Briar added their strength and Tris sprung free. _It didn't like that_, Tris's magical voice hummed ominously. Her magical self quivered, unsettled by how she had been squeezed and pummelled. Even with Sandry next to her she still felt like she was slowly being crushed by something heavy.

Niko's authoritative voice shot through all of their magics, _back to your bodies, immediately!_

_But we haven't found anything useful yet_, Evvy protested. The older mage pushed an image into her mind and silenced her. The view from above showed the fog was getting thicker and spreading faster than it had before. Suddenly she felt that getting away from the fog was just as urgent as Niko's voice had intoned.

. . . .

"We can't have been out for that long," Briar stated grimly once he had returned to his body. He rolled his shoulders to loosen them and rubbed dust from his eyes as Daja and Sandry brought down the wards around them. Once the red and white rings of magic were gone he gasped at how close the fog had come.

"We weren't," Niko snapped as they hurried towards the felucca.

Briar stepped aside to supervise the others as they climbed down the ladder one by one, too slowly, he thought to himself. He watched the sailors help Sandry, and then Evvy, climb down into the boat.

"Two hundred yards," Sandry gasped, pointing at the fog that was coming towards them far too quickly. "We can't outrun it," she exclaimed. _I promised Uncle I'd be home to help him_, she thought, not even realising her siblings had heard it too. She scrambled to the other side of the felucca to make room for the others.

Now that everyone else was aboard, Briar didn't even bother with the ladder. He crouched down and held on to the edge of the wooden jetty, then swung himself down. "Then let's not try to outrun it," he said, using the same tone he would use for declining a dinner invitation. "The fog only kills things it can touch. Coppercurls, can your wind trick you do when there are too many stairs, enough to raise us above where the fog reaches?" Never before had he been so thankful of his penchant at finding escape routes.

Tris didn't reply, instead she waved off a concerned Chime and sat herself down on boat's deck. The girl quickly calculated how much power she would need. All of it, and then some, she decided. Delving around in the fog had already drained her power and she had only ever used her wind trick on three people at once. The mage undid both tidal braids the whole way, knowing that she needed to grip all of that power _now_ because there would be no time to mess with undoing braids later. She felt the steady and ancient power of the tides rush into her bones and fill her magical core.

Next, Tris undid a heat braid and sent it down into the water with a touch of tide energy so it would spin. If she hadn't blocked out everything else around her she would have heard her siblings shouting warnings for the others to hold on as the felucca began to twist. She had underestimated how much wind she would need to lift the boat into the air. Blunt, nail-bitten fingers worked three wind braids apart, gradually winding them around the ship's hull to create a disk of wind. She encouraged them to spin faster and faster, blocking out the worried cries of the sailors and Chime's shrieking. _Now, Tris!_ Her siblings hissed through their magical bond.

Biting her lip, Tris drew magic from her largest braid, the one that was volatile but held the most power. She slammed the earth force away from her, which gave the _Blue Rook_ the boost it needed to rise up from the water, up into the sky, and up, up, _up_ above the fog. _Find me somewhere to put us down_, she told her siblings, feeding more of her power into the winds to keep the spinning disk strong enough to cradle the felucca.

Suddenly light _boomed_ around them. It was pure, white, blinding. It burned Tris's eyes and heated her skin like the sun. In an instant the light disappeared and there was nothing left but black_._

* * *

_A/N: Thanks for reading the entire first chapter. I can make no promises of when I'll update because I'm trying to get a handle on the balance of quality, quantity, and speedine ss. I hope you're enjoying it so far are looking forward to the second chapter (wherein the Circle find out they're not in Kansas any more)._

_Drop me a review or PM to let me know what your thoughts are. I especially love constructive criticism, but any feedback is appreciated._


	3. Chapter Two:  Strangers and ManBirds

**Out of Place**

CHAPTER TWO_  
Strang__e_ rs and Man-Birds  


* * *

Daja regained her sight slowly, though she supposed her hearing was well enough because Sandry's panicked scream had already been sounding in her ears for an eternity. _Your light crystal, Sandry_, Daja reminded her sister-saati, crawling over to the direction of the scream. The shrill sound subsided into soft sobbing, but everything still remained black. Daja fumbled in the darkness and caught Sandry's shoulders in her hands, seeking out the string she knew would be hanging around the noble's neck. With clumsy fingers she opened the pouch that held Sandry's night light.

The crystal held enough light in it to see the bodies of their companions slumped on the ground. The smith-mage fed her power into the lamp, surprised to find how little magic she had left, and made it bright enough to clearly see the wreckage of the boat. From the direction one of the sailor's necks was turned, the woman was surely dead. Yards away, she could see the mangled remains of the captain.

"It's cold," came the drowsy voice of Briar's former student.

Daja agreed, it _was_ cold, colder than any of the lands surrounding the Pebbled Sea had right to be at this time of year. She struggled to her feet and raised the crystal light above her head. "Call out if you can," she told the others.

Niko was the last to call out. "I'm alive, but my magic is down to a sliver," he told the others quietly. It had been a big working that had brought them here. Wherever _here_ was.

"I think _all_ our magic is down to a sliver," Briar pointed out as he took purchase of what was around them, "and that's plenty enough to convince me that we should get off this road." It was hard-packed dirt beneath them, obviously well travelled, and Briar didn't fancy anyone coming along it while he was vulnerable. "Wait..." he said softly before he could launch into any plan. "Where's Tris?"

Everyone perked up in alarm immediately and they scanned the site, but Tris wasn't to be found. "She wasn't holding on," remarked one of the two remaining sailors, "mayhap she fell overboard."

"She's not dead," Briar said determinedly, "we'd know if she were dead." Briar grasped fruitlessly for the link to his sister as the words slipped through his mouth. "She's _there_, but too far away for me to locate when my magic's so low," he explained.

Eventually they had to move off the road. It was too risky to run into raiders or soldiers who were suspicious of their sudden appearance. "It was sunset in Lairan, but so dark here," Daja noted as she helped a sailor move the two bodies off the road. Briar, Niko, and Evvy were busy combing over the crash for useful things and the other remaining sailor was too shaken to do anything but sit and watch.

Sandry was shaken too. At first she had been afraid that they would all die, and then after the flash of light all she seen was darkness. It took some time until she was able to focus on something other than the night light Daja had pushed into her hand. Over time she snapped out of her terror, and set about making sure everyone had a bit of food in them. Together, six mages and two sailors traipsed away from the road and into the thick forest beyond.

. . . .

The forceful lurch of the felucca made Tris topple off the small boat. She had never moved so fast or felt so graceful. Was this how Shriek, her once-fostered bird, had felt when he dipped and soared through the sky? There was a key difference, she knew, but falling felt a little like she had always imagined flight to be. She wanted to whoop, dart, and twist through the air, but she was also terrified.

The winds she fell through carried strange visions of impossible things. Horses with wings, tiny flying people, and even giant spiders with human heads flashed in her mind. Later, she told herself, you can pick those sights apart _later_. Instead, she focused on using her last tiny flicker of magic to cocoon herself in wind and slow the fall.

Down, down, down, _thud_. Tris lay where she had landed and let the strange visions assault her until blackness closed in. She knew nothing.

. . . .

In the morning there had been very little improvement. Although the mages woke up slightly refreshed, their magic hadn't been restored. Briar in particular lamented about only having his mage kit and not his fully-stocked workroom, although the others were almost as bad. Sandry wanted a wash, Daja wanted out of the cold, and Evvy was feeling the keen lack of her friend Luvo. They _all_ wanted Tris.

Even worse than wanting things they didn't have was not knowing where they were or what kind of people they should expect to come across. The mages all felt that things were different in this place, even if there were some similarities. It felt like the earth had rarely known magic, and now it strained to meet them, all full of excitement.

Scrying for Winding Circle was useless; the sister-mirror, which _should_ have put them in direct contact with senior mages at the Hub, wouldn't even do as much as flicker. Briar couldn't send a message to Rosethorn through the plants if he didn't even know what direction she was in, and Sandry was dismayed to find the magical threads she used to keep track of people had seemingly severed in the spell that had brought the _Blue Rook_ to this place.

"I think we only have two options. We can stay here and wait for help to find us, or go back to the road and find someone who can tell us where we are," Niko announced after a rather poor breakfast of restorative tonic, cheese, and pears. They were lucky that Briar had thought to pack the foul-tasting green tonic in his mage kit as it helped to clear their heads and take away some of the sluggishness.

"Or only some could go and the rest could stay here and wait," Briar suggested with a shrug. "Seems to me it'd be stupid to drag our mage kits and the Duke's bribe purse around the countryside. If only two or three of us went for a stroll-"

Evvy let out a cry of protest, not caring whether her opinion was wanted. "Seems to me that it'd be _stupid_ to split up," she interrupted, hands on hips and a heavy glower on her face. It had been just over a year since Yanjing and its scrambling, running, and panic. She had been separated from Briar then, which had made it easy for the Yanjingi soldiers.

_We're not going to get anywhere if we bicker this much about every little decision_, Sandry thought to Daja. The taller girl didn't want to enter the fray, there were far too many cooks handling the broth already, but she knew that Sandry wouldn't be able to resist. She waited for the noble's inevitable interference, hanging onto her staff with a broad grin.

"All this time arguing could be better spent," Sandry interjected, looking every bit the Duke's niece even with smudges of dirt spread across her forehead and cheeks. "We don't know yet that we're in any danger, and jumping to conclusions isn't helping, but if we want to be cautious, why don't just two of us wait by the road? That way we're not splitting up, not _properly_, and help will be close by if it's needed," she reasoned, borrowing her foster mother's soothing tone, "meanwhile the rest of us can stay and try to reach Tris."

"Niko and I will go," Daja offered, straightening up to her full height. _Evvy wants to stick close to you_, she sent to Briar before he could argue. If it had been either of their other sisters who wanted to go, Daja knew that Briar would have argued some more. Fortunately Daja had fought in enough tumbles with the former thief that he knew she could hold her own, even without magic. _I'll call you if we get into trouble_, she promised.

She could feel his reluctance through their magical bond as she passed through the trees with Niko. I can never be sure if I want to know the details of what happened to him in Yanjing, she thought to herself. The Briar she had known before they all split up to go travelling would never have clung to the idea that any of the girls were weaker than him. That's not it, she told herself steadily, he doesn't think we're weak, he just thinks he has to protect us. And Evvy. _Especially_ Evvy.

Daja didn't remember the trees and shrubs being so overgrown last night, although she had to admit that she had been very tired. It had been bothersome carrying her own mage kit and the considerably heavy purse the Duke had sent them with. Just the promise of a quarter of the purse had been enough to get the _Blue Rook_'s captain to agree to the voyage.

As they neared the road, Daja smelt the tang of metal. There was silver close by, different to stuff that was mined from the ground, and unlike anything she had worked with her hands. She hadn't caught it last night when they were at this place, so what had changed? Niko went rigid beside her as they cleared one last snatch of trees. Daja didn't have to ask why.

Before them was a creature she had never seen before, one she hoped she would never have to see again. It had a human face and chest, but the rest of it was _metal_, silver shaped into feathers that gleamed vindictively. "Have you ever heard of such a thing?" she whispered to Niko, forcing herself to examine the creature as it coated the dead female sailor with its own filth, cackling.

"Never," he replied, already gathering defensive spells in his mind. His voice sounded shaken, and Daja wondered if she should call for the others.

The creature's head snapped up from the captain's dead body, looking at them, and let out a loud shriek. It had a mouth rather than a beak, and a stream of sounds came out of it to form words that Daja didn't know. The man-bird advanced towards them, its claws clumsy as they walked across the ground. It continued to natter at them all the while, and advanced so much that the foul odor wafting from it almost made Daja gag.

"We mean no harm," Niko told the thing, "if you could just tell us where we are, it would be much appreciated."

The thing only shook its head in reply and bared sharp yellow teeth at them. Niko tried again in a second language, and then a third, to no avail. He started to ask a fourth time, in Namornese, when the man-bird spoke words that dripped with magic. Niko raised a shield around them as the thing pointed at them with the tip of its left wing. Dark red lightning leapt from the thing and shattered Niko's shield, though it didn't reach the mages.

"I think the man-bird might mean _us_ harm, Niko," Daja told her companion. The creature let out words in a hiss and glared at them. I'd bet anything it's swearing at us, Daja thought to herself.

Red lightning struck again at Niko's new shield, which held steady this time, and Daja decided enough was enough. She spread her magic through the thing's metal feathers, sending rust to eat away at the metal, in hopes that the man-bird would decide they were too much trouble. The creature let out a scream of rage and pumped its wings, lifting up from the ground and disappearing into the sky. The shield around the mages dropped and they hurried towards the seamen's defiled bodies.

"Its talons must be sharp," Niko remarked, holding a handkerchief over his mouth. "And it can do magic, though we've already seen that. I made them invisible last night so we could return today and give proper rites when we had more strength," he nudged the woman's corpse.

"I think we'd best burn them," Daja replied solemnly, "the thing might dig 'm up if they're only buried."

It was a shame to do such a thing, disposing of a body like it carried disease or plague, but surely the sailors would want to be left in peace and not disturbed by a bird-creature again. Niko nodded in agreement and Daja carried an armful of splintered planks to the dead captain. She held her breath as she leaned down to wedge wood closer to the bodies. Once that was done she set the pyre alight and let it burn as Niko muttered a prayer.

. . . .

Miri Fisher offered a prayer up to the gods to help keep her temper in check. She was usually the mildest of people, quicker to smile than she was to frown, but Goddess were the trainees testing her today! The second group of Queen's Riders, Ghostwind, had been saddled with _three_ trainees this year, bringing the group's number up to te n. They had only been riding together for a week, but the constant bickering was making even Miri's teeth ache.

"Have you had your hands clamped over your ears since March? Why do you ask so many cursed questions?" one of the trainees snapped at another. That one has too much of a temper on her to succeed in Ghostwind, Miri thought to herself. She made a note to say as much to Sarge and Evin once she got back to Corus.

"Joslin, if you've nothing nice to say, then I'd rather you kept yourself quiet," Miri informed the snippy trainee. She turned in the saddle to address the other one, a girl from Blue Harbour who hardly ever stopped asking questions. "We weren't the only group to see lights in the sky last night, but we _are_ the closest with two mages. If you're going to get through your trainee year, and the ones after it, you'll quickly accept that unfortunately duty _sometimes_ interferes with comfort," she explained calmly, and urged her pony on.

Truth be told, Miri wanted to be back at the Queen's Riders Barracks too. Ghostwind had been in the field for three weeks, chasing after spidrens. Catching and disposing of the nasty things had been a relief because it meant they could go back to Corus, but then last night they had seen the sky light up and their fate had been sealed. "Big flashy lights generally mean magic, so the preference is for a group with two mages to attend. Group Askew only has one," Miri's second in command, Simmen, added.

The trainees got their redemption a half hour later, when it was one of them who noticed the handful of Stormwings flying overhead. The riders all kicked their pace up to a trot, and then a cante r once they saw the immortals dive down from their heights. "Bows out!" Miri ordered as they galloped around a bend in the road. She counted six Stormwings hovering above a group of people in the distance. Urging her pony faster, she called out, "what is the meaning of this?"

Only one of the Stormwings looked at Miri, "she rusted me! The human rusted _me_, son of Queen Harizah Rottstreak!" Paying the Riders no more attention, he turned back to the strangers. "Now she and her people will pay," he snarled and pointed his wing at the tall, dark-skinned girl.

"And what did you do to her to deserve... rusting?" Simmen asked, mage fire already playing between his fingertips in warning.

"He only nibbled on one of their dead. It was their fault, leaving it out in the open like that," one of the female Stormwings told them with her eyes fixed on one of the strangers who had skin the colour of a Yamani.

Miri trained her bow on the Stormwing who had first spoken to them. Now that she was closer, she could see that his feathers _were_ rusted in places. She wracked her memory, trying to recall if she had ever seen a rusted Stormwing, but couldn't think of it if she had. "If you hurt any human in this realm, we'll be forced to kill you in the name of Queen Thayet," Miri warned him.

"You and your little bows are no match for us," another of the Stormwings taunted. They immortals shrieked in unison and magic burst from them, aimed at the strangers.

. . . .

"Don't kill the creatures, we don't know who it might offend," Niko had told them. Well, Briar was no expert on diplomacy, but he was quite sure that the man-birds weren't about to offer _them_ the same clemency. His suspicion was confirmed when a group of men and women, mounted and wearing uniforms, rode up and pointed their weapons at the man-birds rather than the Emelanese mages. Ignoring Niko's warning, Briar loosened twine that held his hidden daggers in place, and let them drop into his hands.

The man-birds screamed and magic flashed through the air, including a yellow ward that strengthened the one that Niko had set into place earlier. Arrows whirled through the air towards the man-birds, but the archers were shooting from a difficult angle if they hoped to get at any weak spots. Briar threw one of his daggers, satisfied when it landed in the throat of the thing that had aimed her magic at him.

He felt Daja's magic toss one of the man-birds to the ground in front of the ponies. Her unnatural heat spread through the metal of another creature until its feathers were red hot and the smell of burning flesh pierced the air. Briar finished that one off for her with his second dagger, wincing as he imagined how painful it would be to burn to death. By the time he had grabbed at third and fourth daggers under his armpits, the rest of the man-birds had already become the archers' pincushions.

"What did I say about not killing them?" Niko sighed, letting his magic shield seep back into him. He placed his hands in the air and looked sternly at his former students, Evvy, and the sailors, until they all did the same. Sandry escaped his glare, but only because she had given a graceful sign of surrender before being told.

The two front archers put their bows away and advanced, though the others still had theirs strung and lined up ready to do to Briar and his friends like had been done to the man-birds. They spoke to each other in a strange language that Briar had never heard, then spoke to Niko in the same nonsense language.

Niko shook his head apologetically. "Sorry," he said, "but do you know of Emelan?" He listed off many names of countries, growing more desperate as the head archers shook their head at each one. Gyongxe was the birthplace of the Living Circle, Tharios was over a thousand years old, and Mbau was so far south that it might have been familiar to someone who didn't know of the other places.

Once Niko had said the name of every country he knew, the natives began to suggest places for him. Those place names were just as unfamiliar as the language they used to speak with each other. "Where _are_ we?" Daja asked with wide eyes. Briar noted that no one replied, probably because there was no suitable answer.

. . . .

Miri had exhausted her knowledge of geography trying to come up with a name that might set _some_ spark of recognition on the faces of the strangers. Eventually she gave up and decided introducing herself would be more worthwhile for now. "Miri," she said, placing a hand over her chest. She flicked her badge and traced its crimson boarder, "group commander of the Queen's Riders. Queen's Riders." She gestured to her group members as she ended her introduction. Oh Goddess, I'm at a fine age to become a Player, she thought to herself.

"Niko," the tallest of them told her, gesturing to himself. That was all well and good, but Miri couldn't even be sure that she hadn't misunderstood and that wasn't his name at all! His long black hair and sense of dress reminded her so much of her mage friend Numair, it was almost uncanny.

"You said he's a mage?" Miri asked her own mages.

Simmen nodded, "the cloudy white shield around them was him. I can't see any magic on the rest of them."

Miri frowned, uncertain. "But the Stormwing told us one of the _girls_ rusted him, unless he saw Niko's long hair and just assumed… but I can't believe that, can you?" She dismounted from her pony and minced towards the strangers, having to take careful steps to avoid tripping over stray planks of wood. Suddenly, she went pale. "This is a _mast_," she said, pointing down to mess of fabric and wood next to her foot.

"It can't be. We're miles from a river," one of her riders replied.

She dropped down on her knee to inspect it, "I grew up at sea. This is a mast. It's a mast, isn't it?" She asked the strangers, unhappily receiving blank looks in return. She took a deep breath and mimed the movement of water with her hands. _That_ meant something, the strangers nodded at her. "Simmen and Una, I want to be put into contact with Corus _right now_," she instructed, rising to her feet.

"And what exactly are we to say?" Una asked dubiously.

Miri put her hands in the air in resignation. "Start with 'this isn't a trick'," she suggested, "tell them that we have mages who managed to get themselves shipwrecked on a spot of land that's miles from any water, and one of them can make Stormwings all rusty. I don't really care what you say; just find out what they want us to do!"

. . . .

Tris woke up with a groan and opened her eyes in just a squint. Her head hurt, in fact _everything_ hurt, and for just a moment she forgot why she felt so weak. You undid all but the smallest of your braids and had the smarts to fall off a flying boat, _idiot_, she reminded herself. She had only woken because of the bright sunlight and nipping cool air.

She tried to sit up amongst orange leaf litter, but a wave of nausea and the sting of pain forced her back to the ground. It wouldn't have surprised Tris if she had some broken bones in her fall, especially because many of her bones had been fractured and healed so recently.

Consciousness would not last for long, she knew she was completely exhausted, possibly injured, and almost magic-less. The link to her siblings was so fragile, but the most logical thing to do was contact them. Tris took a deep breath and pushed an image of the clearing down their bond. That tiny use of her remaining magic was enough to make her collapse again. As she melted into the ground she had time to realise that Chime was screaming nearby, but then sleep swamped over he r.

. . . .

Daja felt like she was a dancing bear whenever she tried to communicate with the archers. Speaking with them involved making a series of gestures, pointing, and repeating simple words over and over with a great amount of focus on her expression. In the end she came up with the most useful idea. Drawing a picture for the archers accomplished what repetitive exaggerated gestures did not: the riders finally understood that someone had fallen from the ship.

By midday they were joined by more brown uniformed archers and their shaggy ponies. This meant Daja and her companions had to introduce themselves again, with everyone just as awed and confused as the last time . Soon there were maps produced of the land surrounding them, and Daja, Sandry, and Briar spent a few minutes in discussion before pointing to a spot on the map.

That was where Tris was, which meant it was where they had to go (even if it would take more than a day to ride there). The journey to Tris's clearing proved to be awkward and uncomfortable. Even Daja, who had the mildest temper out of her siblings, grew increasingly impatient at the language barrier and slow pace due to terrain. During the ride the groups didn't talk to each other, but once camp was set up the questions started.

It was very frustrating to essentially become a mute. None of the mages knew what had caused them to shift from their home world into this one, and even if they did it would be impossible to tell the riders. Whatever time Briar didn't use up worrying about Tris and his friends back home, he spent drafting up a potion that would help them learn the native language.

Just before nightfall on the second day of riding, the leader of the riders gave a command to stop and set up camp. _I won't, we're too close_, Sandry thought adamantly to Briar and Daja. All three shook their heads at Miri and urged their mounts on.

. . . .

Three times more Tris woke in the same manner; her limbs too heavy to move and her magic too weak to even attempt more contact. When she woke up the fourth time it was to a sensation of warmth. Familiar scents filtered their way through her sensitive nose, even if they were buried under the stink of horses and leather. That had to be Sandry sniffling beside her; the soft smell of lilac perfume gave it away.

_Water_, Tris thought to Sandry as she willed her eyelids to flutter open. _How long?_

The brunette gave a happy gasp and gently clutched at Tris's uninjured hand. _Long enough_, she thought back, _give Briar a moment and he'll have you full of water and all kinds of nasty draughts, and I think our escorts have sent for help_.

Tris gave her sister the best smile she could manage and gently squeezed her fingers. For all that Briar bemoaned fussy girls, he did a fairly good imitation of one as he cradled Tris's head and directed her to sip from a series of different cups. At some point she drifted back into unconsciousness, almost absolutely certain that one of Briar's horrible concoctions had been one to induce sleep.

. . . .

The next day it took five hours to get back to a road. Once there, they quickly set up camp. Tents were put up, not just bed rolls, and the Queen's Riders made the effort to dig latrines. In the three days since knowing Miri's group, Niko had managed to memorise each of their names. Some of them had taken the care to use maps to explain that he was in Tortall, which was a country he'd never heard of. Worryingly, Tortall was bordered by several other countries that Niko had _also _never heard of.

Tris had at least one of her siblings sitting with her at all times. Niko came in and out, always dismayed to see how his former student was seeped in the others' magic. He hadn't been in Emelan when Sandry was thirteen or so and had held the ailing Duke together with magic and pure stubbornness, but it was quite obvious that she was doing the same again with Tris.

When the smell of rabbit stew had well and truly settled over the campsite, Niko finally managed to send everyone away from Tris's bedside. "Just for dinner, I'm just as adept at looking after her as you three are, thank you," he assured them in his most sagely tone. Once they left he settled down beside the sickbed and smoothed hair away from Tris's face.

They sat in silence for a long while as he tried to remember when he had last seen Tris's hair unbound. She had used up almost all of the magic in her braids to keep the boat suspended and prevent them from falling, leaving her with very little energy left for herself. "I wish you had done something for me to be angry about, it would make this waiting a lot easier," Niko admitted softly as he groomed her wild locks of hair. The small amount of lightning in it only tickled, completely harmless.

Tris's reply was so soft that Niko almost thought he'd imagined it. "I'm just drained, and it feels like I broke at least two hundred of my bones," she whispered through dry lips. She opened her grey-blue eyes and looked up at her old teacher. "If... can you keep their magic away from mine? Make sure Chime is looked after, Glaki too, and everyone knows I love them?"

A tear slipped down Tris's cheek, but she couldn't lift her hand to wipe it away. Niko did that task for her then threaded his fingers through her hair once more, "they already know," he told her briskly. "As for preventing them from joining your magics, I'll try, but I don't know if I can," he told her regretfully.

"Thanks, Niko," she replied. Tris closed her eyes, slowed her breathing, and concentrated. The block would have to be perfect before she applied it, otherwise her siblings would break through.

. . . .

Sandry wondered whether her sister would even last through the night. Tris's bones had been set and numerous potions administered to her, but nothing seemed to get better. The infection and fever she was suffering through was unaffected even by Briar's magically enhanced glop. "I can't believe she did this," Sandry insisted with quivering lips and her chin set mulishly.

"We could be in a different world, and the trick you four once pulled off might not work the same here. Tris did what she thinks is sensible," Niko assessed all of them through solemn eyes. "It took some time for her to make that obstruction be twe e n your magics and he rs, she obviously thought through her decision and doesn't want you harmed."

"It wasn't her decision to make!" Briar snapped angrily from Sandry's side. "It's not for her to order us about and choose like this," he continued irately. He wanted to pound some sense into the vexatious girl, and Niko, too.

"And have all of you leap after her to die as well? Or for it to work, only to discover Tris can come back but you can't?" Niko's words were said with a firm gentleness that discouraged any future argument.

Hours went by and Tris's breathing grew more laboured. Her lungs crackled with every intake of breath, and she began to mumble words and phrases that didn't seem to make sense. She called for the absent dog Little Bear at one point, and later cried out the name Aymery. Their magic wouldn't touch her, the barrier she had constructed to keep them away was too refined.

Three hours after midnight Daja managed to make a scratch in Tris's block. The slight weakness allowed Sandry and Briar to look for more cracks while their sister deteriorated even more.

"You can't," Evvy pleaded once she understood what was happening. Briar ignored her, as did his sisters. They were too deep now to speak in the physical world. She covered her face with her hands and shook her head. "Master Niko, they can't," she said hesitantly.

Before they were fully accredited, Niko may have been able to intervene between his students. However, they were no longer children and he knew it would be fruitless to try alone, or even with Evvy's help. All he could do was watch and lament his inability to heal. Tris was going to die and her siblings would likely kill themselves trying to save her.

The sweltering tent muffled the sound of horse hooves until they were close. Niko jumped up from his seat on a log and opened the tent flaps wide, revealing a small number of men. Although they weren't armoured they did carry weapons, and for a moment Niko was unsure whether they were friend or foe.

One of the newcomers, a tall man with brown hair and an emerald mage light in his hand, swept through the open flaps. As he passed Niko he skimmed calloused fingers over the older man's shoulder, sparking a feeling of health and revitalisation.

Niko understood, this man was a healer. He nodded and followed the man to Tris's bedside, stepping between the siblings that held her vigil. He reached his magic out to his defiant once-students. _Come back_, he thought to Daja with his hand on her arm, _there's a healer here._

None of them stirred. Niko pressed his fingers to Daja's wrist, searching for a pulse. He felt no flutter of life beneath her skin.

* * *

_A/N: Thank you so much for the reviews, favourites, and alerts you've set. The past two weeks have been chaotic for me (in a good way), and I hope this update isn't too overdue. I've tried to keep things realistic in this chapter- all of the characters are very shocked, confused, and are relying mostly on instinct. This chapter also marks the beginning of my difficulties consolidating the two different worlds, because this is a collision of two separate _worlds_, not just countries._

_Drop me a review or PM to let me know what your thoughts are. I especially love constructive criticism, but any feedback is appreciated._


	4. Chapter Three: The Interception

**Out of Place**

CHAPTER THREE_  
The Interception_

* * *

Miri waved for her trainees to tend the nobles' horses. Even the heavy sleepers had been woken up by the new arrivals. Through a chain of magefire Ghostwind had been able to request the help of a nearby healer. The healer and his friends had ridden fast and hard to get here so soon. Hopefully, Nealan of Queenscove could help, after all, he was the Royal Healer's son and he also had years of training under Alanna the Lioness.

"I'm not sure if there's anything he can do, but thank you for coming," Miri told Sir Owen of Jesslaw and the regal-looking man who accompanied him. Kings' Reach, she reminded herself, having written it in her journal earlier that day.

They both gave her weary-looking grins and dismounted. "Neal'll try his hardest," Jesslaw told her. When his feet hit the ground he smiled, and Miri saw a hint of the former squire's exuberance. "Now, what's this about not being able to speak with them? That sounds exciting. And odd. But definitely exciting."

Simmen waved the new arrivals over to the fire and offered up a cup of sweet tea. "It's not _exciting_," he groaned, "it's _horrible_. We can't get any answers to Their Majesties' questions!"

"We think we understand some, but can't be sure with no way to confirm," one of the other Riders added. She looked at Miri for permission, and continued with the Group Leader's nod, "they've never heard of Tortall, or Carthak, or Sarain, or _anywhere_. They're from a place called Emelan."

Owen gave a low, impressed whistle. "Exciting, like I said," he repeated with bright eyes.

. . . .

_No_, Tris thought as she felt her siblings itch at her barrier. She had wanted to spend her last moments in peaceful reflection about the people she loved. Instead, the last thought in Tris's mind when she died was wild distress over her siblings' foolishness. If they died while trying to save her, she would make their afterlives _horrible_.

She was flying again like she had four nights ago, but this time the descent was peaceful and slow. There was an absence of hurt or pain, and Tris settled on the ground as lightly as a feather. Black was everywhere, as inky and comforting as the space between stars. As soon as Tris had grasped the fact that she was here, and her body wasn't, a man appeared. He wore a cloak that was the darkest black she had ever seen, it hung over his face to obscure most of his features in shadow.

Somehow, Tris knew that this was a god. His gentleness pierced deeply into her heart and sung of warmth and compassion. "_I am the Black God, keeper of the Realms of the Dead,_" he explained tenderly. His head lowered as he watched Tris complete a wobbly curtsy. "_Thank you, especially as I know you must be tired, having travelled such a long way_," he said to her.

"You're kind to think of me," Tris replied, unable to tear her gaze from deity. The Living Circle religion had no god for the dead, and this one did not fit the northern god of ice, or Tharios's Thanos.

"_I am not a god of your world, as you are not _in_ your world,_" the Black God informed her, not indifferently. "_I suppose this is not your place or time to die, therefore I shall wait as my brother requested of me,_" he said in a soft voice that brought to mind the stillness of night.

"It would make me happy to return to my family," Tris stated, studying the infinite folds of the Black God's cloak.

He nodded slowly, "_so it shall be, though I cannot send you back to your Pebbled Sea._"

That settled a poignant hurt in Tris's heart, did that mean she could never return to Emelan? "Thank you, sir," she said graciously. It seemed too much to ask anything more from the peaceful god, but his presence beside her felt encouraging. "Might I ask how I _am_ to get back to my worl-"

Her sentence broke off as translucent figures flickered into being nearby. The ghostly forms of her siblings made only the slightest imprint on the surrounding blackness. Spirits, thought Tris, they're dead too.

Briar's hazy form stood at the forefront, braced for a fight. She was reminded of how he had stood so stubbornly before the dead Rosethorn just a decade ago. "With all respectfulness and everything, we're not leaving without her," he interjected immediately.

"_There are so many of you here, where you should not to be,_" the Black God observed. It was only now that Tris noticed another person had arrived, a man with a broad tip at the end of his nose. The Black God turned his head slightly to look at the newcomer. "_How to get back to your world remains to be seen, but you have my leave to return to the Mortal Realms. Healer, help them,_" the god instructed. He gave a sweeping gesture with his arm, and the scene fell away.

. . . .

Neal did his best for the redhead girl. He had only caught a glimpse of the young woman's exchange with the Black God, but that made her importance fairly obvious. Although many of his thoughts were occupied by musing over the hows and whys of gods, Neal was also aware that _he_ had been charged with looking after the foreigners, which had to mean helping the redhead survive.

As his magic flowed into a puncture in the girl's lung, the foreigners stood in a corner talking heatedly. When they got too loud, Neal shook his head at them. He needed to concentrate on knitting bones, muscle, and skin back together, and their noises weren't helping. They seemed to heed whatever look Neal had given them, and soon only one of them was quietly sulking around the tent.

Over the next few hours the honey-skinned boy hovered closely over Neal's casualty, but never got in the way. The stranger had obviously spent time around sick beds before, even though Neal couldn't glimpse any hint of healer magic in him.

"My name is Briar," the boy said after three hours of silent watching. The words were punctuated by vague gestures, as if he wasn't certain he'd used the right words. At that moment, Neal realised that Briar wasn't exactly a boy. In fact, he almost looked to be ages with Neal's best friend, who was in her twenty-second year. If Briar was still a teenager, it was just barely.

The noble allowed himself a moment to think of the deeds his friends and mentors had accomplished by the age of twenty, and suddenly it didn't seem so far-fetched that _this_ boy had managed to travel to a different world.

"Hello Briar, my name is Neal," he replied. Neal offered his hand, which Briar shook tentatively, and then turned back to the injured girl. "What's her name?"

"Tris," Briar responded. His lips quivered as he searched for the new and unfamiliar words, "her name is Tris."

_Tris_ had taken quite the tumble, and a few days without food or shelter hadn't done her much good. Neal couldn't help but regret that she hadn't had a healer tend to her earlier. Her wounds and breaks were easily tended to, and he expected Tris's fever to ease over a matter of hours. Although there was no bleeding in the girl's brain, Neal still couldn't be sure that it hadn't been damaged by the fall until Tris woke.

He drew blankets over Tris and gave Briar a small smile, unsure of how to explain things to someone who knew so few words of common. "Well, I've helped Tris as much as I can, and you have no idea what I'm saying, so I'm just going to use a nice reassuring voice and hope that you can guess she's probably going to be okay," Neal gave what he hoped was a positive smile and pointed at the girl who laid motionless on the bed. "Tris needs sleep," he added slowly.

Briar's slightly dazed expression gave way to relief. He nodded and reached a hand out to clasp the other man's shoulder for a moment. A string of garbled syllables came from his mouth, but the intent was clear.

"You're welcome," Neal replied gladly.

. . . .

Over the past ten years Daja, Sandry, and Briar had all suffered through Niko's lectures. Sometimes they were short and concise, but this lecture was _not_ one of those. Sandry couldn't exactly hold it against her former teacher. He'd been given a fair fright, so she listened without protest.

"Eventually, someone in this quaint little family of ours is going to die and you'll have to let them," Niko told them, his voice wavering between reasonable and stern. It was his fifth lecture in the past two days, with the first few being so emotionally heated that everyone had stomped off to their own little corners of the campsite. Hopefully, this lecture on the matter would be his last and the entire situation would become one of those subjects that were never mentioned again.

Sandry felt Chime squirming around her neck and sighed. The glass dragon seemed as shaken by the recent events as any human. As soon as they had found her, shrieking and trilling in alarm as she kept watch over Tris, the dragon had tucked herself around Sandry's neck and hadn't left. The stitchwitch guessed that her neck would continue to be Chime's home until Tris woke.

"I want each of you to promise me you won't try anything so ridiculously hazardous again," Niko said, meeting each of their eyes in turn.

"I'll try," came Daja's soft voice.

"Same," Briar and Sandry chorused.

Although Niko's dark eyes implored them, none of them gave way. "We can't make a promise like that unless we're _sure_ we won't break it, Niko," Sandry told him gently, "but we can try to keep out of trouble, and _try_ to think clearly if we manage to get in any."

Although it didn't seem quite enough for him, Niko nodded anyway.

"It's not like we do it for fun," Briar added.

Nilkaren Goldeye, great mage and member of Lightsbridge's governing board, frowned. "You shouldn't be able to do it at all," he scowled, "not once, and certainly not _twice._"

Through their mage-link (to save poor Niko the effort of being concerned) Sandry told her brother and sister, _life would be sad if everyone always did the expected._

. . . .

Squire Alan of Pirate's Swoop was _not _pleased by the current state of affairs. As much as he liked adventure, he had no patience for running around the countryside in late autumn. Northern Tortall was cold, wet, and muddy in November, and if there was anything in the world that Alan hated most, it was _mud_.

The Scanran War had officially ended a year ago, but a great portion of Tortall's force was still stationed in the north. Third Company was supposed to leave in two weeks, before the snow made travelling impossible. Instead, here Alan was, being rushed out of Northwatch with two squads of Third Company to attend some absolute emergency.

Raoul, Alan's knight master, was frustratingly quiet about their newest task until the squads were assembled before the gate in two long, snaking columns. The twenty soldiers, standard bearer, and Knight Commander all looked rather impressive in their clean uniforms, but Alan knew better than to believe the illusion would last throughout the journey.

"A small foreign delegation arrived in Tortall unannounced a few nights ago, and our good King Jonathan wants us to escort them safely to Corus," Lord Raoul explained to his men. Some of them, like Alan, were irate at the brief explanation, but it took a few hours in the saddle for any of them to kick up a fuss.

"I thought we'd have a nice, easy ride back to the capital," one of the men jokingly groaned after a heavy shower of rain. "I _thought_ we'd huddle up with pretty girls in a nice inn whenever the weather bothered us, toasting our ice-cold toesies by the fire."

"You thought wrong, Wolset," Raoul barked with amusement. He tossed back his curly mop of black-and-grey hair and laughed, "if it's any consolation, Miri says they're nice. Well, nice enough for people that don't speak a recognisable language, in any case."

Alan did _not_ find that reassuring.

The following day, Alan was even less pleased with the circumstances. The Own's business with the foreigners was apparently going to be very official, because the chain mail was brought out. They reached the Riders' camp at noon, only to find that answers were still far and few between.

Alan sullenly watched Raoul trot off to a private meeting with Miri Fisher. Although he knew that Raoul would share whatever had been said with him later, Alan hated waiting. He kept himself busy, firstly by tending to his and Raoul's mounts, and then he helped to prepare lunch. Lunch was as good an excuse as any to make his way into the tent where Raoul had disappeared half an hour ago.

The tray he carried was heavily laden with broth, flat bread, cheese, and cured meat. "My Lord," he called at the entrance of the tent. As strange as it felt to use such formalities with his near-Uncle, it was always how Alan acted around unfamiliar people. It was probably best to help the foreign delegation realise just how important Raoul was in the Realm.

"Come in, oh Squire of mine," Raoul called back. Alan grinned, happy that he was finally going to catch sight of the foreign delegation. Would they have dark skin like the Southern tribes, or resemble Yamani Islanders? It seemed impossible that they would be from the Copper Isles, but if so Alan was sure he'd have plenty to talk about, having visited his sister Aly there just months ago.

Alan eased his way into the tent elbow-first and managed to keep the broth from spilling. There was no table in the room, but a few logs allowed for some makeshift seating. An occupied bedroll lay next to a small cluster of rocks, which Alan forced himself not to stare at. "Lunch, my Lord?" he offered.

"Better serve our guests first," Raoul instructed. "Lady Sandry, Niklaren, please eat."

Alan surveyed the room and picked out the lady immediately. She was poised, even when perched on a log inside a floorless tent. He sensed that the young woman was the type to exude elegance, no matter the circumstance. Like Aunt Cythera, and Thayet, he thought to himself as he studied her face and bearing.

"Thank you," the lady gave Alan a beautiful smile and reached out to pluck a bowl from his tray.

It was harder to decide who Raoul wanted him to serve next, but Miri was able to give him a subtle gesture and Alan offered the tray to the eldest man, who looked to be a scholar through and through. Alan would recognise the slightly pallid cast of skin and astute eyes anywhere, he'd grown up seeing such things in his brother.

There were seven foreigners to serve in the cramped tent, then Raoul, Miri, and a very familiar knight. Alan smirked when the tray at last reached Nealan of Queenscove, who had once been squire to Alan's mother for four years.

"We've just finished discussing plans," Raoul told Alan, "our friends here are from another place and they'd really like to get back to it. We've showed them where Corus is, and I _think_ we've successfully established that it's best to go there."

"The questionable part being that they can each only speak about ten words of common, but we think they understand the concept," Neal admitted as he dipped flatbread into his broth.

"They don't understand common?" Alan repeated with confusion. "Where are they from?"

"Possibly another world," Miri replied smugly, "Numair believes it's plausible and wants to meet us up as soon as he can, but Daine is just about ready to give birth, so it might just be that he'll wait anxiously for us in Corus." Alan had witnessed Numair's fretting before Sarralyn's birth and had no doubt that his Uncle would be a wreck. Not only would he have a birth to worry about, but he was also being kept from very important magical something-or-rathers.

He wondered whether the foreigners knew just how lucky they were to have a week of peace before reaching Corus. Once they reached the capital they would be poked, prodded, and interviewed within an inch of their sanity. Poor, poor people, Alan thought wickedly, they have no idea that Numair is going to subject them to a lifetime of questions.

. . . .

Tris's eyebrow itched horribly. She moved her hand to scratch it, only to realise that there was some kind of strap across her chest. You're in a stretcher, she thought to herself with the hazy sort of calm that only came from a long sleep.

Memories came back to her- she had fallen from a floating ship, been found, died, and then her idiot siblings had leapt in after her. Tris gave a small moan and opened her eyes, only to have a flood of images flock to her. Hundreds of sights and snippets raced through her magical sight in seconds, making her head feel like it was going to tear apart. She gritted her teeth to stop from crying out in pain, and it worked for a moment, but she gave an undignified squeak of pain.

Suddenly the straps that had been holding her in were released, and hands were helping her out of the stretcher. "Glasses," she whimpered, trying to cover her face. This new land with its new breezes and their sights was too much without the filter of her tinted lenses. Colours and sounds were rushing, rushing, rushing around her head far too quickly for any of them to properly register.

Tris dropped onto her knees, not even caring that the ground was slick. Her stomach emptied itself as she steadied herself with one hand and clamped the other over her eyes. A male's voice called out words that she had never heard before, and all Tris wanted was her glasses.

_You're safe,_ came Sandry's reassuring voice in Tris's head,_ we're coming from the head of the line._

Soon miraculously cool fingers brushed against her neck. The sudden assault of visions, and dizziness that came with them, stopped. "Your glasses broke in the fall," Niko said softly, "we didn't think about what would happen when you woke with your magic fully restored. Let me know when you want the blindness lifted."

Tris opened her eyes, but it was as if they were still closed. She nodded in understanding and reached for Niko's hand. "Sorry," she croaked, "for the mess and the noise."

"I'm just glad you're awake," he replied, helping Tris to her feet. "We've been in Tortall for a week now, and you haven't even stirred since your healing three days ago," Niko explained.

_We're glad too, _he's_ been worrying and yapping at us with lectures because of it, _Daja informed Tris. She slipped her arm around the shorter girl's shoulders and helped Niko direct Tris away from the horses. "I can make you a frame for new specs when we stop for the night," she offered, "but I don't know about the glass."

"We're bound to stop at a town along the way, but good luck explaining what you want," Sandry said simply, "they don't speak a word of any useful language."

"Well that's not true," Briar protested. He shoved a water gourd into Tris's free hand and grinned, "some of the blue fellows wanted to learn some swear words, and they're picking them up quite well!"

Tris snorted and shook her head, trust Briar to go to foreign lands and share the worst parts of Emelan's culture. She shook the gourd suspiciously, not quite willing to bring it to her lips, "this is _just_ water, isn't it?"

Briar threw his hands up. "You have no faith in me," he exclaimed.

"Because she's sensible," Daja noted.

They stopped for just half an hour, which was long enough for everyone to fuss over Tris. Sandry came up with the idea of making a veil to help Tris's eyes adjust to her scrying, and worked on it while the lanky healer, who introduced himself as Neal, checked Tris's response to stimuli.

Tris watched the scene through Daja's eyes and tried not to be disgusted by her wild mass of unkempt hair, or the splatter of vomit on her dress. _He's good sort_, Daja told her sister, _he never gets impatient like some others do when we ask about words, and after healing you that first day he went and fixed all of our bruises._

Tris allowed herself to be poked and examined in the no-nonsense way that was so distinctive of healers. _Never mind about that,_ Tris thought back,_ have you got a comb?_

Daja laughed and left to fetch some things that would help Tris groom herself back into a human state. Briar soon claimed the spot next to Tris that Daja had left. "Are you going to braid it again? I forgot how… curly it is. And now that I've remembered I'm going to miss it," he announced with a grin.

"If you're looking for accuracy I'd choose _messy_ over _curly_," Tris retorted, "and there's the small matter of sparks."

"Think of it like a warning device! You know, similar to how poisonous creatures are sometimes bright colours," Briar exclaimed happily.

Tris gave him an unimpressed scowl, "wonderful, I'm a scaly poisonous creature. Thanks ever so much."

"You're welcome," Briar replied.

. . . .

Miles away in the Royal Palace, King Jonathan studied the shocked faces of his council. "All reports say that the group are friendly, compliant, and seemingly just as confused as we are. They're picking up some key words and phrases, but not enough to thoroughly explain how they got here, or where they're from. I've called all of you here in the hopes that one of you will have an idea of what to do with them when they arrive in five days," he spoke carefully, trying to pre-empt questions for which there was currently no answer.

Discussion went on for a while, but few of Jon's councillors had real opinions, the others simply marvelled over the situation. "I say we welcome them with open arms," Myles declared, "keep them close and try to demonstrate that we don't believe they're a threat."

"But they _could_ be a threat," Gary replied evenly.

Myles tapped his fingers against the table, "which is why we pretend we don't see them that way. Friends close, enemies closer, it makes sense to treat them as we would an ambassador from a hostile country. Show them our hospitality, keep them happy, but at the same time find out what they want." His gaze was sharp as he presented his logic, knowing that years as the spymaster informed his opinion.

"We'll give them elegantly styled rooms in the palace. I know it will be tight with the social season coming up, but if we show them kindness and charity, if we make them our allies, I'm sure we'll get answers sooner," Thayet agreed.

Numair had only one concern, and when he voiced it the others laughed. "Can their rooms not be too much of a walk from mine?" he asked innocently.

* * *

_A/N: There's a reason behind my prolonged lack of updates, I promise. In early February my house was broken into and my (uninsured) laptop and external hard drive, amongst other things, were stolen. I lost the 40,000 something words I'd already written for Out of Place, as well as three completed chapters of Resurrection, not to mention a dozen original works, countless drafted one-shots, my digital photos, and 10 years worth of music._

_So, you see, it took a while to save up and buy a new laptop. Then it took an additional while to build up my morale enough to write again. Hopefully you can forgive me and continue to read._

_The stats counter is currently down so if you could do me a favour and just drop me a small review so I know whether people are still interested in this story, I'd love you forever!  
_


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